Tank Ambush
by DeviantWriter2015
Summary: Near the beginning of the Second World War, a mixed Soviet column is en-route to an Allied base in Poland. Sheridan light tanks commanded by German women lie in wait to ambush them. But even with numbers and the element of surprise, will they be able to win against the drastically superior armor of the Red Army? One-shot.


Sheridans

February, 12 1948

AN: The Second World War of Red Alert 1 had equipment roughly on par with mid-late Cold War. So the choice for light tanks was between the Sheridan and the Bradley IFV seen in the unit selection screen. Both had methods of dealing with larger, heavier tanks; Shillelagh guided missiles for the Sheridans and the Bradleys had TOW guided missiles. Even though it's an IFV, the Bradley is more modern and has better protection than Sheridans, with spaced armor and reactive armor. And the missile system and main gun of the Bradley are actually good and reliable, while the Sheridan's gun and missile system were not.

So I obviously gave the Allies the Sheridan.

Heavy tanks are fictional, so I gave them the same name as Russian tanks in End War.

[1]

We're completely fucked." the light tank's gunner said. She was shaking. Shaking a lot.

"Shut up, Joli." the driver said.

The commander rolled her eyes and spoke calmly and evenly on the radio: "Just shut up, Joli, and keep your fucking feet off the trigger."

Joli kept glancing at her foot, to make sure it was nowhere near the pedal.

The loader, a heavyset woman, snickered: "Yeah, we don't need you going off too early."

"You can put a fucking lid on it too, Edda." The commander said, "And make sure you're loading the proper rounds."

"Yes sergeant." Edda said, giving Mother Mitzi none of the sass, thankfully.

"They said five panzers right?" the driver said.

"Yes, yes, Rom," Mitzi said. "Five panzers, the exact same number as the last damn time I said it."

"Yeah, and we all know how fantastic Allied intelligence is."

"Well shit, Romilde, would you like to go out and check for yourself?" Edda asked, grinning. "Do all us Germans a favor."

"Didn't I tell you people to shut your fucking traps?" Mitzi asked.

"Yeah, but you forgot to say please." Rom said.

"Rom..." Mitzi began, and the steel in her tone was enough to make the woman shut up.

Of course none of them wanted to be here. Mitzi wanted to be at home in Berlin. She wanted to be eating potatoes and bratwurst sausage and drinking strong beer (maybe skip the the potatoes and sausage and get right to the beer). Not stuck in a tiny tank with women she probably wouldn't have been able to stand even under normal circumstances.

Romilde and Edda were constantly snarking at each other. Edda would usually back off when Mitzi told her to shut the fuck up, but Rom often did not. But neither one made Mitzi feel unease compared to Joli. If there was a "Skittish Gunner of the Year" trophy, Joli would not only take 1st Place, but 2nd, 3rd, and all the way down to the fucking exhibition trials. Mitzi _hated_ her being in charge of the gun.

But what could be done? The Soviets outnumbered them and many of the men were off at war already. Not a single tank in this white forest had a volunteer in it.

Their Sheridan tank was in the forest flanking the road. Twenty miles to the east—their right—was their only Allied base in this section of southeastern Poland. A Soviet spy plane had flown over and nearly gotten destroyed by the AA guns there. But it had lived to tell the tell.

The Soviets would be arriving in a matter of minutes. And not just simple Vodniks and BTRs and Mobile AA guns, oh no. The order of the day was heavy tanks. "Ogres" as they were called.

If the Sheridans didn't stay on the move, they would die, as simple as that.

There were fifteen Sheridan light tanks in the woods. If Allied intelligence was correct, they would outnumber enemy tanks 3 to 1. That was their advantage. So was the fact that they were laying in ambush. Not to mention the AT mines on the road..

Mitzi's tank was the rather mundanely (but appropriately) named Red Death. The Sheridans were perfectly capable of destroying vehicles smaller than it. Anything large would require the Shillelagh AT missile, which were not extremely reliable even after years of upgrades.

The AT missiles, however, where the only option the tanks had. The cannons would do fuck all even at extremely close range.

They had a few squads of infantry hiding behind boulders and trees near the road, armed with M16s and LAWs. Mitzi was glad she wasn't out there. It was -30 out there, snowing, and only going to get colder. It was just after four, the sky already darkening.

The snow was relatively light. It was pure white on the ground, but not for very long.

Not at all.

[2]

The Allied command center was an underground café in Spain. The move from Greece to here had been hasty. There was no video-map of Europe to look over, and so the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces had to remain content with a simple board map of Europe, with blue figurines for the armies of the Free World and red for Stalin's Shitheads.

She was a French woman, with black hair and green eyes. Like a certain snarky tank gun loader thousands of miles away in a snowy forest, she was thick in build. Unlike said loader, none of the supreme commander's thickness was fat.

If Stalin tried to fight her himself, the man would be dead within the next five minutes. That was not an exaggeration.

So when her second-in-command came into the room, with a stack of papers, he felt the same as he always did: extremely small. This was in spite of the fact that the supreme commander was the same height as him, five-six.

"Ma'am, the Americans have finished their tests of the new medium tank." He said. Then flipped over the notes. "Though they're saying the conventional term of 'heavy tank' is perhaps not the best one. They said it's too fast to be considered such. One of the designed thought 'main battle—"

"What's this new tank going to be called?" the supreme commander asked. Her voice brought to mind a hammer. Not one slamming a nail into the wood but slowly and brutally grinding it through. The second-in-command liked the voice. Perhaps a bit too much.

"The M6—" he began.

"I didn't ask for its numbers Viggo." the supreme commander said calmly. "I asked what it's called. Those Yanks always have to name their tanks something."

"Um..." Viggo blushed, stammering. "They named it 'Patton,' ma'am."

"After that General who died last year."

"Yes ma'am."

"A brave man he was. Very brave."

"Yes ma'am."

She looked over the details for the M60 Patton tank. A much stronger gun than the Sheridan. She couldn't spare too much time, there were so many things to be checked, so many calls to be made, within the next hour alone.

She merely signed the important documents and sent her second-in-command on his way.

On the way out, Viggo spared his fourth glance at the papers. As he walked, he thought: _Aren't the Germans supposed to be the ones making the heavy tanks?_

He paused, wandering just what the hell he meant by that...but then supposed it didn't really matter.

[3]

And of course Allied intelligence turned out to be wrong.

The Soviet infantry came first: men and women with grey steel helmets, and bulky white uniforms. Nearly all of them were armed with AKs. A few of the larger ones were grenadiers, armed with PPSHs and large blue belts that held more throwing explosives than a carton did eggs.

Then came the tanks. There were not five Ogre heavy tanks, but seven. The plan had been for three Sheridans to focus their AT missiles on one; now each Ogre would only get two AT missiles at the start. Which wasn't guaranteed to knock them out in one shot anymore than the mines already planted.

As the crew of the Red Death watched, the turret of one of the Ogres slid into view, its tank commander on the PKM machine gun emplaced on top. But he wasn't looking around. This stupid Reds were getting so complacent because of their new armor.

"Don't even say it Joli." Edda said.

"I didn't say anything." she was leaning back and forth in her seat and drumming the side of the gun sight with her fingers. She'd been doing this for the past minute.

Lieutenant Delmy came on the horn. _"You seeing this Mitzi?"_

"Yes ma'am." Mitzi said. She abruptly switched the radio to Death's frequency. "Joli for the love of God stop fucking fidgeting in that fucking seat!"

Joli cringed at the language, but stopped fidgeting...for three seconds. Started doing it again, caught herself, and stopped again. Mitzi wanted to throw her out in front of the Sheridan and tell Rom to hit the gas.

 _What a great leader you are,_ she thought to herself. The anger was replaced with sadness so great she wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. What exactly was she doing here, radio in hand, her crew about to kill human beings, while she thought about running over her ally?

The minelayer, who was down the road, behind a ridge, came on the line: _"I got the mines on remote activation. Just say the word."_

 _"_ _Roger that Amelia."_ Delmy said.

Everyone was in place. The names of the Sheridan tanks was this:

Red Death commanded by Sgt. Mitzi.

Death Merchant, by Lt. Albina.

Suffrage, by SSgt. Ursula

Scorched Earth by Sgt. Elli

East Eagle by Lt. Delmy.

Blue Baron by Sgt. Gabi

Slattern (because she was a "big bitch") by Cpl. Marcella.

Blackjack by TSgt. Sybille.

War Machine by Sgt. Thora.

Firebolt by TSgt. Zelda.

Berlin Beast by Lt. Valeska.

Olympus by Sgt. Gertrude

Rain Dance by Cpl. Herta.

Ballista by SSgt. Lulu.

And Bulletproof by TSgt. Brigitta

The plan was to wait until the entire line of tanks had actually gotten to the minefield, and do the most damage that way.

But the plan was ruined for the exact same reason that many Allied stealth plans failed.

One of the Soviets had brought a fucking piece of shit dog.

[4]

None of Red Death's crew could fathom why the damn dog had been in the middle of the enemy column, as opposed to the front. Had it been at the front, with the bulk of the infantry, it would sniffed out the hiding infantry much sooner. Then _none_ of the tanks would be in range of the mines.

As it was, the dog didn't sniff out the hiding German soldiers until three of the tanks, and nearly all of the infantry, were fully in the minefield.

It began to bark. Loudly. Mitzi thought it sounded like China plates being thrown against the wall. She hated dogs.

There was a crack of rifle fire somewhere. Somewhat light and airy, it sounded like an M16. Two more joined in almost immediately.

 _"_ _Amelia! Now!"_ Delmy shouted.

The trees far to their right shook as the air in the background was filled with fire and thunder.

For a moment, the Red Death didn't move.

Then a Soviet body came flying down, lying facedown in the snow in front of them.

"Rom!" Mitzi said. "Get moving."

Red Death cruised forward, having decent traction even on the moderate bed of snow. Trees passed them by.

They were out of the trees, and then descending the slope.

They got lucky; there was an Ogre twenty feet in front of them, off to the left. Not really perpendicular but it might not matter if they hit the turret. The heavy tank's commander spun his head to the right and looked not at the Sheridan itself but at Mitzi. His eyes became as wide as dinner plates.

Edda had already loaded the missile and Joli's response was immediate.

The missile escaped the cannon with a thick _whooshing_ sound and hit the heavy tank less than a second later. And not in the body but the turret.

The tank's commander was thrown out from the turret hole, flopping around like a ragdoll. The tank started to smoke. The turret attempted to turn to the right, but stopped after ten degrees or so. The bow gun was firing bursts, probably at the German infantry near the front of the ambush line.

Mitzi looked around. On her right, Sheridans were engaging the unharmed Ogres and the results were mixed. One heavy tank was billowing out more smoke than a coal factory, the crew already abandoning it, to be gunned down by Staff Sergeant Helga.

"Round loaded." Edda said.

"Firing!" Joli shouted.

This time the Ogre's turret nearly came all the way off.

"Heavy panzer down!" Joli cried with joy.

Mitzi took fire from the right. Ducking, she turned. A squad of Soviet infantry was firing in all directions. Germans hiding in bushes on both sides of the road gunned then down. Just ahead of these unfortunates, a two grenadiers each lobbed an F1 at the bushes. One of them missed completely. The other did not, and Mitzi could hear the screams from here.

She put her hands on the M2 turret and was about to start firing when a high velocity round came from the left, missing her head by a bare three meters, making her flinch.

"Taking fire!" she cried. "Rom, go forward, use the busted tank for cover."

They went forward and around, Mitzi still watching what remained of the front of the enemy column. The grenadiers were already dying on the ground. The snow was the color and texture of chunky tomato sauce.

 _No. Not right now. Don't do this right now._

She fought back against her stomach and she won.

They got around the tank, and were just in time to see the Scorched Earth take an AT round from where it sat on the forest tree line. The turret popped up like a rocket. One down, fourteen remaining.

Behind them, German infantry were coming up the road for support.

The Ogre behind the wrecked one was smoking and not moving. Three down, four to go. They were doing great. Red Death went up.

"Who's still shooting?!" Mitzi shouted.

 _"_ _The two tanks at the rear of the column!"_ reported Lt. Albina, from Death Merchant.

The third Ogre was standing its ground, its turret pointed directly at Death Merchant. Merchant was trying to turn away, but there was no time.

The massive gun fired. The tank round came all the way out the other side, pluming the incline behind Merchant.

Lt. Albina's commander seat became an actual furnace. Screaming, she tumbled out, rolling around in the snow.

Mitzi's heart ached but she was no medic. She told Rom to keep moving forward. The third heavy tank's turret swiveled forward, aiming for Red Death.

When they were clear of the second Ogre wreck, Joli fired again. This one glanced the armor and didn't go off. It corkscrewed into the ground, blowing up in front of Suffrage.

The tank aimed at Red Death, but then was rocked by an AT missile from Suffrage.

"Load another one quick!" Mitzi shouted. "Rom move up, full speed!"

So they sped up. An AT shell zipped by, scraping an inch of steel from Red Death with a shrill whine.

Mitzi felt a pang of fear.

 _(it hit the track!)_

But they were still moving, so it didn't.

The Ogre's turret swiveled toward them, trying to back up at the same time. Then it took another missile—this one from the left side. It stopped moving.

Mitzi was in no mood to take chances. None at all. And they still had seventeen of the Shillelagh's left. They got up perpendicular to the fucker. They were less than three feet away. Mitzi ducked down and closed the hatch. "Fire!"

"Firing!" Joli said.

The AT missile slammed into the tank. It was followed by a secondary explosion.

Four down, two to go.

They were doing fantastic.

Unfortunately, the Ogres at the rear of the column were also the smartest.

Both of them were backing up, doing a tactical retreat.

The one closer fired a round at Suffrage and missed. The farthest one fired at Bulletproof and did not. It erupted in flame.

"Fuck!" Sgt. Gertrude said. "They're retreating! We should get the fuck out of here!"

"Negative!" Lt. Delmy said. "If we let them go, they'll report our numbers. And they'll have infantry scouring the forest next time! An ambush will be impossible!"

So the Sheridan tanks gave chase. A few of them fired their regular tank cannons, maybe to shake up the crew or disable the tank treads, but no such luck.

The closer tank fired at Suffrage again. This time it was a direct hit. Fortunately the ammo didn't cook off and Ursula and at least one other crewmate managed to abandon the wreck.

Olympus fired an AT missile that hit the front armor directly. Other than a few sparks and a noticeably jostled tank, the enemy was still standing.

The heavy tank fired. Even at close range the round was somehow fired too high. Instead of hitting Olympus, it hit Gertrude. Her upper body disappeared in a dark cloud of blood.

"Fuck!" Mitzi shouted.

From the left, Rain Dance and Firebolt each fired a missile. The first had a bad angle and glanced off the front of the armor, somersaulting into the incline on the opposite side of the road, exploding there instead. The second struck the ground in front of the tank.

Olympus was backing up.

Not that it mattered. A cannon round came out from the darkness and struck Olympus dead center in the turret. It immediately began pouring smoke, but did not explode. Twelve of them left.

Firebolt responded by trying to rush the fucker. The Ogre's commander tried to open the hatch to see better but a M2 burst from Zelda made him hide back in his hole.

The closer heavy tank wasn't able to swivel its turret around fast enough. The one in the rear, however, had been aiming at the left flankers to begin with.

As the muzzle of the cannon flared up, Mitzi winced, waiting for the explosion of fire and the sight of burning bodies.

But instead of a dead-center hit, the shell slice completely through the right-treads, completely immobilizing Firebolt.

Suffrage was moving up the right flank; Blue Baron and East Eagle went with it.

On the left, Slattern, Black Jack and Ballista moved up.

Following, Red Death was War Machine and Berlin Beast.

They were rushing the bastards.

In response, the Ogre tanks kept backing up, and Mitzi felt a pang of genuine frustration. The bastards were going to retreat all the way back to Moscow and this armor company would follow them into a trap if they weren't careful.

 _They could already be doing it,_ Mitzi thought.

 _No, fuck that. Don't worry about it. These Sheridans are twice as fast as their Ogres. We'll catch up no problem._

But catching up wasn't the problem so much as their numbers being picked off in the processs.

As if to confirm this, the rear Ogre fired again and struck again. This time, Blackjack was immobilized. Instead of abandoning immediately, the crew fired off another AT missile. This one was another front armor hit to the closer Ogre.

"Bail out, Sybille!" Lt. Delmy yelled.

No response from the Blackjack at all. The radio must have been destroyed. Mitzi could actually see the redheaded tech sergeant, her head turned to the right, towards her radio, trying to say _something_.

Slattern fired an AT missile, and this one struck the same Ogre's left tread. Now the _Ogre_ wasn't able to move.

Mitzi hoped the crew would leave the tank immediately, but hope got them nowhere. It took slow, deliberate aim at Blackjack. Fired. A direct hit to the front armor. This one hit the ammo stores in the tank and Mitzi actually saw the armor buckle _outward._

Tech Sergeant Sybille was thrown from the commander hatch into the air. She was on fire.

"Fuck!" Delmy screamed. "Someone take out that cocksucker in the back!"

Joli fired an AT missile at the one in the front. Something miraculous happened. Mitzi had no idea if it was on purpose or just bullshit luck, but the Shillelagh hit the bastard right on the nose. When the smoke cleared, the massive tank cannon was bent noticeably.

"Thora!" Mitzi shouted. "Finish this bastard off! My team will help the others with the last one."

"Roger!" And War Machine moved to flank the defenseless Ogre. With four squads of German infantry behind her. In hindsight, they should've been spread across the tree line instead of focused at the front, but there had been simply more cover for them up there.

 _It doesn't matter,_ Mitzi thought. _All that matters is killing this last one. Then we're in the clear._

[5]

The final, retreating Ogre, had its commander unbuttoned and opening fire at Slattern with its PKM. Corporal Marcella responded by engaging with the M2. Neither one of them were particularly good shots; Marcy aiming too high and the Ogre commander aiming too low. The bow gunner was firing as well, but his aim was as shitty as everyone else's.

The tank fired. Its cannon shot came dangerously close to repeating what had been done to Gertrude.

Marcy shook noticeably, even from this distance. Her .50 cal. gun stopped firing. She looked around, as if not quite sure where she was.

Delmy screamed unheeded orders at her.

Marcy slowly and calmly ducked down into the turret and closed the hatch.

At this point, the Ogre was flanked on both sides. M2 fire from all multiple directions forced the commander back into his own turret.

Mitzi thought the cannon would lower and fire directly into Slattern. Instead the gunner tried turning toward Red Death.

It took Mitzi far too long to realize what it was doing, but Rom drove the tank forward at full speed.

It wasn't even a contest. The tank fired. The shell nearly winged the side of the turret...but did not.

Joli tried firing an AT missile.

But it wouldn't fire.

"What the fuck!" she cried. "What happened?"

"It's a dud!" Edda said. "Give me a sec!"

She opened the breech, yanked out the dud—if it _was_ a dud—and put in a new one. It was much more likely that the unconventional firing system of the Sheridan was finally starting to catch up to it.

Or perhaps not. The next Shillelagh fired just fine. But it missed.

The heavy tank fired again, but by this point, the Sheridan was simply outpacing the turrets turn. It missed by ten meters.

Meanwhile, Ballista flanked the tank from the left; East Eagle and Blue Baron from the right. They all fired AT missiles. The heavy tank rocked left and right. Scraps of metal flew off.

Ballista began firing with her regular cannon shells at close range, directly into the starboard treads. East Eagle fired another AT missile while Blue Baron fired cannon shells, destroying the port treads.

Joli fired her final AT missile of the battle. This one hit the joint between turret and chassis, immobilizing the former.

It poured smoke.

The hatch opened up, and the commander put his hands in the air.

It was over.

[6]

They had rounded up the Soviet tank crews, at least the ones still capable of standing. They stood shivering in the snow with their padded green uniforms and grey tank helmets. Some of the uniforms were covered with blood; others were burned and singed.

One of the Soviet crew members—of the second to last tank to be knocked out—refused to get out until his wounded partner was retrieved from the bow gun seat. He was paralyzed.

After much arguing, one of the riflemen simply, Helmut was his name, dropped a grenade into the hatch.

"Problem solved." Lt. Delmy said, with a grim smile.

Helmut gave her the thumbs up. "I'm a master negotiator."

The German riflemen surrounded the survivors. Behind them were the surviving tanks, their commanders with their hands on the M2s.

A transport halftrack was on its way.

"But before that..." Lt. Delmy said.

The Soviet tank crewmembers looked at her. Their faces ran the gambit. Some were crying. Others muttered to themselves. Others had their faces buried in their hands. But many of them looked at the German tanks with an incredulous expression on their face.

Not that they had females running the tanks. The Soviet Union didn't care at all about that. They had women in Yaks, in medium T-54 tanks, and Hinds. They had women serving in mixed infantry battalions with the knowledge that anyone found to be pregnant or just fucking would be serving a prison sentence of two-years with no parole.

In fact some of the Soviet idiots in front of Mitzi right now were woman. And much like her own armor division, they ran the gambit.

Lt. Delmy got out of the tank, moved between the German infantry. They glanced at her, somewhat confused. They'd separated the Soviet crew by tank, and the final two were at the end on the right.

"Mitzi, get over her please."

Mitzi approached slowly, not sure what to expect. She could speak commie better than anyone here, of course, but what difference did it make? Everyone knew "Move" and "Halt."

"Ask him which one of them were the gunners for the last two panzers." Delmy said softly.

"Lieutenant, I—"

Delmy looked at her. Her face was a grimace of pain.

"That's an order."

Mitzi glanced behind her. The German infantry had turned out, as much as they could while remaining alert of the other prisoners. Sybille and Albina and Gertrude—this wouldn't bring them back.

Delmy repeated, very softly now: "I said, that's a _fucking_ order sergeant."

Mitzi sighed. "Kotoryye odin iz vas, byli artilleristami dlya poslednikh dvukh tankov."

Two girls (perhaps a bit younger than Mitzi herself—whom was only 21) raised their hands. One with black hair, the other with blonde. Both had blue eyes. The latter started to cry. She knew what was coming. So did the black-haired girl, who didn't cry at all.

Mitzi closed her eyes. A loud gunshot. An awful silence. A voice breaking it after an eternity. "Excuse me Lt. Delmy." said the voice. Mitzi turned.

A man was coming through the crowd of rifleman. A man with a bald spot in his black hair, but a thick, tough build. Behind him were two transport halftracks.

"Colonel Adam Niner." Mitzi said, saluting.

"We were just—" Delmy began.

"Oh I know." Colonel Niner said. "Just rounding up Ivan to bring them back to base. All of them. Just like I ordered you to, correct." He smiled, and it was like watching a great white shark smile. He didn't say that last sentence like a question.

"Of course sir." Delmy said, looking at the ground.

"See that you do it then." Colonel Niner said. He turned away...and then turned to them again. "Remember lieutenant, the Soviets aren't the only ones that put their troops in front of firing squads for disobeying orders." He was still smiling when he said this.

[7]

All the surviving Soviet tank crew members made to base.

The black-haired Soviet girl defected to the Allies during that time. Her father was murdered by the NKVD. She herself was conscripted by the Red Army eight months ago. She began to train with the Allies, stating that she looked forward to avenging her father. Instead of being a tank gunner, she became acquainted with special forces operations, becoming a commando.

Her name was Tanja.

The Yankees called her a slightly different name.


End file.
